


Habits

by kanzaki4



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: +18, AU, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Boys Love - Freeform, Drug Addiction, Harassment, M/M, Murder, Pedophilia, Physical and psychological violence, Sexual Abuse, Social Differences
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29803233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanzaki4/pseuds/kanzaki4
Summary: Sakusa and Atsumu have tasted life in different ways, but in the end they match each other and end up being quite an interesting duo to contain.Atsumu enjoys life despite being alone.Sakusa doesn't need anyone but himself.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu & Yamaguchi Tadashi, Sakusa Kiyoomi/Ushijima Wakatoshi





	Habits

**Author's Note:**

> My english is still not very fluent, but I'll do my best to make this fic well received here.  
> I also want to thank @KANAN_KING from Twitter, as she has indirectly motivated me a lot to write about Sakuatsu with her fanArts. 
> 
> Kisses.

"I have dinner in the bathtub, then I go to the clubs we used to visit, but now all I see is weird people trying to flirting." Atsumu's voice, sleepy or rather mitigated by alcohol and ecstasy pills, broke down and became more hesitant as he left a voicemail on Kiyoomi's mailbox. "That makes me nervous," he continues, even though his throat burns; He continues, rubbing his free hand on his worn trousers. "It makes me uneasy, too, though. You know? Yes, I've been around here and seen everything. I come home, get hungry, eat what I find in the cupboard, throw up in the bathtub, and go to sleep. "Also… " Atsumu paused, trying to hold back his dizziness from the effect of the drug. "I also drank all the money Paige-san lent me days ago and, and it tasted like loneliness. But you're gone ..."

"Your time is up. Please try again." And the woman's monotone voice on the answering machine interrupted him, causing a sharp discomfort in his stomach that rose to his chest, accompanied by a headache that not even aspirin wouldn't get rid of. 

"Kiyoomi, you bastard," he muttered through his teeth, forgetting not to cry anymore. Atsumu pressed the cell phone against his chest, falling to his knees, hunching forward until his forehead touched the cold and dirty ground; while with one hand crumpled part of the carpet that stuck out from under the bed.

*

Atsumu woke with a start when he heard the insistent alarm tone on his cell phone. He blinked, his mouth feeling dry, his lips chapped and his eyes still slightly red. Though he had no choice but to get up; his brother was kind enough to pay him for college, and Atsumu was aware of the way he should return the gesture. Still lazily and between groans, he sat on the foot of the bed and rubbed his face with both hands after giving a long yawn. 

A bath.

He had to take a shower, he stank and so did his clothes. The weekend was full of fun for Atsumu, he remembered it so well that he even started laugh after passing in front of the mirror and seeing the physique he woke up with. After spending half an hour in the tub of hot water, he put on a pair dark jeans and a white T-shirt with an English band symbol on it. While drying her hair with one hand with the usual towel, he put two slices of bread in the toaster; and when they were ready, he grabbed the remote control from TV and turned it on. He buttered on the whole wheat bread, pouring cereal into a bowl, but didn't start eating it until it had reached a doughy consistency and bread had softened sufficiently. 

It was 5:12 in the morning, I could see it clearly in a corner of the television. I tuned in to the news, as I did every Monday. But the news had become boring since it was reported worldwide that one of the world's richest businessmen had died. He had been murdered in his own home, slepping next to his wife, with his only son's room just a few steps away. No, that wasn't really the most interesting part of story, besides the fact that they decided not to reveal the name. The most interesting thing was that they discovered his true identity: the guy was a brutal serial killer. He had ended the lives than 75 people, but these were not merely normal people. Everyone who was killed by his hand, before was a murderer too; pearhaps a rapist, a corrupt politician, a kidnapper, a pedophile even. 

Atsumu began to ignore television when the infomercials started, preferring to respond to the multiple messages and comments that had to do with the pictures he posted on his social media yesterday, when he wasn't in his five senses. Atsumu let out light chuckles as he swiped his finger across the screen, and the notifications scrolled, displaying the rather raunchy messages from various girls he had met days before or at the same party last night. Even if he couldn't quite remember it well, he knew that his recent sexual encounters had to do with one or two of them, but that was fine, none of them asked him to be nice afterwards. He could dismiss them unceremoniously and was guaranteed permission.

Soon his face became a little more serious as he turned off the mobile, and without moving out of bed, he turned his head in several directions, observing the chaotic and shabby conditions in which his apartment found itself. I had clothes thrown everywhere, clean and dirty mixed, several of the appliances always remained connected, milk boxes open and unstored in the fridge (some had already expired), garbage bags by the door, empty food packages, bottles no alcoholic liquid sprinkled on the table, some broken glass in a corner and small plastic envelopes where their illegal purchases came.

That's also how his life looked like. 

Atsumu shifted his gaze to the window, where the transparent curtain gave him a view of the street. It had begun to rain, the drops sliding down the opaque glass. Then he stood up, going to the other room, to fetch a bucket and place it in a fixed spot. Atsumu looked up, observing the cracks in the ceiling, and how the drops began to fall into the container. Atsumu sighed, leaving his attempt a breakfast on the table. And with that he walked over to his closet, pulling out the first coat he coul find, along with a scarlet scarf that he neatly arranged around his neck. He brushed his teeth and smoothed his hair until it managed to keep it on one side. Turn off the television, grabbed the umbrella, his backpack and carried the garbage bags by the knot; locking the door behind he as he left. 

The corridor looked dark, maybe it was a disadvantage of the rainy day ... or maybe it was the way Atsumu saw life.

He descended the stairs instead of the elevator, enclosed spaces up to that size caused him irrational fear. It was probably due to his childhood traumas, but the rest of his acquaintances questioned the reasons why his brother didn't suffer from the same. Many thought he was faking it to get unnecessary attention; however, it was a fact that what Atsumu wanted most of all was to go unnoticed. Atsumu was a brilliant chooser of friends, and most of them belonged to his own world. The world where they were aware of their own destruction, but where they still enjoyed the day to day without remorse. 

"So sick of playing, i don't want this anymore."

While listening to and humming along to some Pierce The Veil track, Atsumu preferred to walk to the university, following the subway lines to shorten his destination and avoid riding public transportation. Atsumu was studying at faculty of law at the public university in Amsterdam, yes, he had moved to the Capital of the Kingdom of the Netherlands with his brother. Even though they lived apart, Osamu gave consistent visits, accompanied by colloquial sermons that Atsumu didn't want to ignore; but in the end he ended up doing so. Osamu had his own business, one that was well received by Amsterdam thanks to the cultural variation it brought. And even though the twins were concurrently compared, Atsumu was happy about Osamu's accomplishments. 

"You make me sick, i make it worse by drinking late." 

"Miya!" They shouted behind him.

Atsumu removed only one of the headphones and turned towards the sound, meeting into one of his friends. 

"James," Atsumu looked calmer. The guy was about his height, brown and with olive green eyes; although at first glance he looked like an ordinary boy, we're talking about a pervert with a peculiar hobby: collecting lighters. "What do you want?" 

"First of all, good morning." His greeting ended up being a complaint. "Second, how much of your pills do you have left? 

"Forget it, you idiot," Atsumu muttered, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. "We are about to start classes again, could you control yourself until the weekend at least?"

"Your abstinence touches me, Atsumu." James patted Atsumu's back, and they both continued on their stride. "By the way, have you thought better of it yet?"

"What are you talking about?" Atsumu raised an eyebrow. 

"Our visit to the _Rosse Buurt_ ," he said quietly. "Jackson would get us better tickets, let's call it." 

"I doubt there's enough time for that kind of visit, at least now that we're starting the first week with midterms." Atsumu removed a poster that was on the board at the main entrance, in the first building of the university.

"What, are you...?" 

"What? No? Look for yourself. ”Atsumu flashed a mischievous grin, showing the printed document with a detailed schedule. "It'll be the whole university alike. Poor little incoming guys." 

"Seems like a better way to end the week." James gave a sly smile, easing the discomfort of the new news. 

"Forget it." Atsumu continued his way down the center aisle.

"Ah, come on, do prostitutes scare you?"

Atsumu rolled his eyes in response.

"They are women after all, aren't they? So I don't know the difference between them and any broad in the class I ask if she wants to sleep with me." Atsumu shrugged, cocking his head slightly. "Oh, no, wait, of course there's a difference: I avoid wasting my money. Get it? It's ridiculous." 

"I'd advise you to think again," James said, flashing a mischievous grin. "These women are far more experienced than the girls you usually associate with." 

"You know that for a fact?" Atsumu asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I simply don't doubt it." The brunette shrugged.

But Atsumu continued with that irritated look on his face, so serious that not even a fly could disturb him, and the bites on his temple were killing him internally. Although, his hangover was not the main reason for him to be so grumpy or at least still refusing to participate in a situation of that degree with his friends. The reality was that for some time now, women had not been satisfying him as they should. His desire for the female body was slowly becoming null and void, and no matter how much he tried to reject them, he wasn't a disgraced lout to break their illusions. He could be honest, he wasn't as attracted to them as he was in his high school days, but he was not sure enough to know what kind of tastes were preferred now.

"Hey!" A tall, hazel-eyed, black-haired boy exclaimed form afar, soon joining them. "How about the last weekend?" 

"It could have been better," James replied, putting on his badge.

"Normal." Atsumu followed, repeating James's action.

"Normal?" Asked the black-haired man. "For you, I doubt it was anything but normal.

"Ah, Jackson," Atsumu snorted, smiling half-heartedly, "things get more normal and monotonous than they seem." 

The trio entered the cafeteria, it greeted them with to much noise, too much hubbub; from laughter to insults mixed between loud murmurs. While James quickly searched for a vacant table, Jackson and Atsumu moved foward to the the food counter; they grabbed a tray and took place in line.

"Why do you keep doing that?" James asked, still puzzled by his friend's mannerisms. 

"Doing what?" The blond didn't look at him, continuing his attention on the plate as he turned the cubed chunks of watermelon into a seeded mush. 

"Are you too lazy to chew it?"

Jackson set his half-eaten sandwich, watching silently and sidelong as Atsumu stopped and his eyes traveled from his plate to James. They both knew it. They were both aware of how double-faced their friend was becoming. And there it was, the fucking hostility, ruining lunch. It even felt like the whole cafeteria had gone completely silent.

"Maybe I am," Atsumu said, letting he was frowning at rest. "But you must give a shit about that, you know?"

"Hmm." James shoved the spoonful of pudding into his mouth, tasting unabashedly. 

He also knew that. Atsumu didn't eat any kind of solid food; everything had to have a doughy consistency, it had to be easy to swallow, without chewing. And many took advantage of that to tease him, except for Jackson. The black-haired man was aware of even the smallest detail of his friend's condition, phagophobia didn't seem like a game to him or something that was allowed to be used in jokes. Then, he confidently slapped James on the back, causing the spoon to fall near Atsumu's tray.

"What is your problem?" James was a first-rate picky eater, so they were used to it. 

"Come on, high school is my escape from my parents' marital problems," Jackson sighed with his eyes closed. "Read the atmosphere and don't be stupid without a cause, James."

Atsumu gagged, rubbing his neck with one hand; he felt nauseous, she was not only remembering James's action with the pudding, but a few more years ago.

"Hey, Atsumu," the black-haired man caught his attention, trying not to sound worried. "Are you okay?" 

The blond drank the glass of juice he had brought completetly, managing to feel free from his esophagus. 

"Yes," he said, rising from the bench, with his glass in hand. "I'll just get some more juice." 

Both young men followed him with their eyes, until they realized that he did indeed line up at the food counter. There, Jackson decided to hit James's shoulder; causing the latter to groan loudly. 

"What the fuck do you think- !?"

"Stop with that." Jackson made it clear that it wasn't a request, but an order. 

"What are you talking about?" The chestnut continued to enjoy his food. "Does he need you to defend him?" 

"Listen, stop being such an ass for a moment," Jackson declared, glaring at the chestnut. "If you seek attention because your mother preferred to abandon you, look for it somewhere else, not here to use other people's problems against them." James's mocking smile gradually disappeared. "I have problems, Atsumu has problems, you have problems, everybody has problems and believe me ... I doubt they're blowing off steam while screwing everyone else's existence. You'd have to be a real son of a bitch to not want to notice or to believe that the universe revolves around you. You're not the only one, James, you're not." 

The chestnut remained silent, he didn't have an answer; at least not one that was intelligent enough to combat the black-haired man's argument. But in the meantime, Atsumu stepped out of line and walked at a slow enough pace that he didn't want to return to his table. Suddenly he stopped halfway between the fair distance between the food bar, and where the benches stay began; his cell phone was emiting vibrations and he pulled it out of his coat pocket. His brother was calling him. Atsumu replied. 

"What's wrong?"

« _Are you okay? You sound kind listless_.»

"I'm fine." He lied, not wanting to explain. "Just tell me what's wrong, Samu." 

« _Alright_ , _alright. The truth is, I just needed to remind you about our parents' anniversary_.»

Atsumu bit his lower lip.

"So? What do you need me to do with that?" The annoyance in his voice was noticeable.

« _I know how your situation with them is going, but trust me when I tell you that they're asking to see both of us_.»

"It's a lie," he protested quietly.

« _No, it is not. Rest assured, those were our mother's words. Besides, grandmother will be attending and she_ ... »

"I can't." A trickle of voice came out, and then he swallowed saliva with effort.

« _Atsumu._ »

"I can't and I won't," he asserted, frowning. "You know well that I thank you for everything you've donen and continue to do for me, but please not now. Not now! Don't ask me to start digging my own grave again."

« _Tsumu._ »

"It's not like I'm doing great, it's not like I have a purpose other than wanting to graduate and properly repay you for everything you were willing to do for me. Do you understand that?" 

Osamu's sigh could be heard through the line. He was tired, not from his brother's words, but of being aware of how much selfless hurt and pain he was forced to endure not only from his parents, but also from the entire society that had them in their sights after the kidnapping incident.

« _I get it._ »

"I'm sorry," Atsumu said, crestfallen; watching the orange liquid in the glass he held tremble. 

« _You_ _don't have to apologize or be sorry. I know well what's going on and that I shouldn't be this flippant or try to persuade you to do it. I just want best for you and for you to continue in peace. And if the best thing for that to continue happen is for you to put parents aside, then that's fine with me too_.»

"But ... don't do it," he asked, beginning to feel tormented.

« _I won't._ »

"Take care of yourself on the trip, and, don't forget to call me when you've arrived, even if you've just set foot at the airport." 

Osamu let out a little laugh, and Atsumu also formed a smile, perhaps barely perceptible; but his brother was all he had and who whom he counted most. The one who had brought him out of his stagnation, the one who took him away from his own solitude, the one who swore to himself to carry him on his back if necessary. 

« _Good. See you later, Tsumu_.» 

"See you later, Samu."

Atsumu finished the call, and returned the mobile phone to his pocket. For a moment he continued to stand at that midpoint, and it seemed as if he was a lost soul, in a place where no one was seeing him. Only then, he took a sip of the juice, and went forward. But then he felt another arcade that made him stop, causing him to collide with another body. Atsumu had to lift the dull gaze that constituted him at that moment furter and, thus, met a young man with black, wavy hair; he had his brow furrowed slightly, highlighting his two moles on the right side of his forehead. Also, from how dark his eyes were, he couldn't tell the pupil from the rest. And his white mask did not allow him to see the lower part of his face. The piercing gaze of the man in front of him, so dark; but without a hint of discord, made him feel like being devoured by a black hole. To be swallowed easily, without consideration and held captive for all eternity. Atsumu let out a low gasp, barely a stream of breath passing through his lips.

They say that when you meet the love of your life, time stands still, and it's probably true. What they don't tell you, is that when it resumes it becomes faster, to recover what was lost. 


End file.
